More Than the Unexpected
by firstwivesclub
Summary: (AU) With the influx of all the illegality, the prostitution has become rampant at nightfall. And even though these woman are willing, and the cash is flowing, it's still illegal. I won't hesitate to shut it all down.


Ending up with a prison sentence was inevitable for a man like him. It was an unavoidable providence when the encompassment of corruption oozed from someone's very existence. He was a human force that chose to be immersed in the chaos of a town bent on destruction and one that certainly did nothing to deter its inescapable progression into anarchy. He thrived on the unethical atrocities, those practices transforming until they became a metaphorical band-aid over a much larger wound; a minimal tether to keep the citizens grounded while he was profiting off the dishonesty underneath the tranquility. In the end, he was a sheriff advocating for his own demise.

Predictably this instability fell to ruin. And in the midst of all the unavoidable consequence, the moment provided him with one distinct variance; his own son was the one to end it all. This man was my father, and despite his occupation in my personal life and the hatred I harbored, this tipping of the scales was strictly professional. Because as unwanted as my intercession was, it was the only way to achieve equilibrium. Individual necessity bestowing an unknown requirement on a person that was just as damaged. My past failures still resonate deep, haunting the present, propelling my underlying obligation to protect what is fragile. So, the need to rescue outweighs my personal vendetta, and the temptation of illegality his power promised, he was volatile, and I did what had to be done.

It was a closure that promised better beginnings but instead fostered more complications than solutions, tipping the instability and effectively undermining the inter-working's of a system that didn't require personal intervention: sabotaging from within. I was a pawn who completely underestimated how deep a patriarch's roots had embedded themselves beneath the soil.

And it was too late to stop digging.

My deception was the type that came with a price. One where wearing a badge did nothing to safeguard my actions against the fabrication of my father's regime. His "partners" worked together, using their positions of power to make my consequence clear. The showed cohesiveness in their underhanded determination of the retribution. It was payback that took me away from the real fight, the real responsibilities, and the real pollution. Effectively forcing me into their idea of mediocrity; I was one who was not to be trusted.  
So, my absence becomes the punishment.

It's a deceitful inconvenience, one that forces my existing employment elsewhere, but the town of Aldcrest Harbor is not unlike my own.

White Pine Bay and Aldcrest Harbor are neighboring towns forced into sisterhood. Their municipality sharing similar routines. And with the amount of time I've spent between the two I've quickly learned not to correlate their modest sizes to power. They flourish and fall in tandem.

In their juncture, the crime radiates. The drug trade is rapidly exceeding its margins, and as the success progresses misdemeanors are evolving into felonies. The surge elevating solicitation into a different hierarchy of crime, one that holds a significant position of power. And with the influx of all the illegality, the more commerce and dealing, the more prevalent is the revolution of men, the ones who look for every outlet to get their shit off after a long day of lawbreaking. The prostitution has become rampant at nightfall.  
And it needs to be monitored.

So, as their half-assed solution to the obstruction I was inserted into the synthesis. Given a job that holds no real merit. And my instructions are as follows: I was not to make any arrests but observe the clientele, make sure the proprietors didn't get too out of control, and intervene only when absolutely necessary. They made me a chaperon to a bunch of criminals and it was completely humiliating.

Once again, I'd show them though, fight back when they were trying to contain, I'd make a mockery of something else that benefited their routine. Because even though the woman were willing and the cash was flowing, it was still illegal. And I wasn't going to hesitate to shut it all down.

X

This is the second night of my residence. Watching once again in solitude as the dusk succumbs to the darkness. And I'm here with the presumption that the night ahead will be much like my subsequent one; filled with silence. Because up until now there's not been a single indication of human presence, illegal or otherwise. And the more I dwell on that one component I'm left with only one conclusion; that the participants have been tipped off to my involvement. I'm not stupid. I know what they're trying to accomplish, it's just another derision of their contempt. The betrayal of my colleagues resonates loud and clear.

But as always, I'm obstinate with my resolve, I refuse to be shaken by their ridicule, and instead of giving in to the mimicry I wait for the perfect moment to strike.

Admittedly though I'm getting tired of it; the waiting. Watching as the minutes' turn into hours. Wasted time that has my determination fading as I half-ass pay attention to the scene in front of me. Sitting alone in contemplation I rationalize my level of dedication. I shouldn't have to be on full alert when nothing is going to transpire here anyway; I readily give in to my own persuasion.

I resolve to shutting my eyes for only a moment, vowing to return to apt employment with haste, but I've underestimated how the recent stress has begun to take its toll on my physicality. With the fatigue encroaching I'm almost fully asleep when I'm first disturbed by the commotion.

I was loathed to acknowledge the knocking, tempted by the promise of relaxation and my fading lucidity, I shift uncomfortably in my position as it continues. But as the frequency and volume of the intrusion escalates it's getting harder for me to ignore.

Begrudgingly, I open one eye, searching through my drowsiness. I can barely make out the human presence at my passenger side window but I choose to acknowledge it anyway. With actual recognition gaining momentum, I make the commitment to adjust myself, re-positioning my body on the reclined seat, when I'm finally vertical I move to roll the window down. Readying myself for conversation, I don't try to hide my annoyance at having been previously disturbed, wearing the agitation clear on my face as I turn to meet my intruder. In doing so I fully expect to be talking to the mug of some drunk out for a late night; I'm entirely unprepared for what really lies ahead. Because instead of a man, I'm met with the face of a woman. The contradiction takes me completely by surprise.

And it most certainly doesn't help that this woman, who's now leaning on the edge of my vehicle, is utterly breathtaking.

Captivated by her presence, I can't help but stare. Watching in earnest as the breeze from the bay causes her blonde hair to sway. Falling loose, the subtle curls converge below the whisper of her jaw line, and as the errant strands brush over her undoubtedly delicate skin, it's their erratic movement that draws my gaze further. Noticing her lips, tantalizing under her chosen shade of red, I watch willingly as she bites down on the lower half. It's a simple action but it causes me to swallow harder than I anticipated. I try momentarily to disguise some of the vulnerability, before returning to make eye contact with her for the first time. But I've miscalculated, because for me, it's that one feature of hers that does me in entirely. They reflect a blue like any that I have ever seen, their intensity encompassing the entire magnitude of an ocean in just a human form, they stare at me with playful curiosity. And I've completely come undone.

"Hey there" Her simple utterance radiates the confidence I fail to possess right now. Struggling, I fight to get my first words out, watching as her manicured finger traces some unseen path between the interior and ex. Her flirtatious disposition is quickly becoming a distraction.

"Uh…hel…hello?" I can only imagine how idiotic I sound. Cringing at the vibration of my uncertainty, I've never been this tripped up by a woman before, and I'm finding my emotional exposure pathetic. No doubt she does to.

"Are you in for a ride tonight?" She stops all movement when she asks me. Resolved instead to resting her head in the palm of her hand, waiting for my response. It's amazing to me how the simplicity of her action, still manages to exude an intoxicating sexuality.

But it's her words that release me from her hold. The propositioning question clicking everything back into its rightful place. The setting, her actions, and the intended outcome becoming well-defined in the vocality. I'm disgusted with myself. Because I cannot believe how easily I let one woman affect my judgement and awareness; my weakness is shameful and the blunder inexcusable. So, without further impairment of my comprehension, with her meaning and intentions clear, my reciprocating response is devoid of emotion. Because I know what I'm going to have to do; it's unavoidable. She's a woman who got caught up in the aftereffects, one who didn't get the memo. Another victim of my liability.

"Sure"

"I should warn you" Her tongue reaches out to graze the skin of her lower lip, tantalizingly slow. I fight back the constrictions that threaten my throat once more. Allowing myself to speak before they get the better of me.

"Yeah?"

"I'm expensive"

"I don't think that will be a problem" Her smile broadens with my agreement. The beauty of it radiating outward. I don't get caught up in it this time though because I'm disturbed by the exploitation.

I choose not to prolong the inevitable, unbuckling myself from the confines of the interior, emerging fully into the night air. If she's put off by my sudden forwardness, she doesn't show it, so I continue this charade with the underlying assumption I'm not the first client to exhibit such directness. The consciousness of this newfound knowledge makes me uneasy but I continue to move anyway.

But once again I'm unprepared for what lies before me, another test of wills where I am unfit to fight, because now, upon moving around to the opposite side of the vehicle, I see her in full for the first time.

And if it's possible she's even more striking than she was through my side window; her aura erotic without any of the intention. One that's completely different from any other that I've seen partake in this line of work. I wouldn't know from personal endeavors, but the stereotype of a typical call girl speaks for itself; it's doesn't with her. Because her clothes are understated and elegant, the black dress she is wearing hugging her suggestive curves in a way my hand's cant right now. I feel the twitch in my fingers, just watching how the synthetic fabric covers her body like a second skin, I want nothing more to reach out and touch her. And for a fleeting moment of inexcusable weakness I consider taking her up on her offer. Dream of her body writhing against my own, hands pleasuring, as we both reach blissful release. The flicker of the fantasy makes me sick to my stomach the moment it finishes materializing. I'm disgusted with myself, because I know better, deserve better, and stranger or not she deserves better too. And I most certainly will not be one to take advantage of her need to make a living.

"So, are we using your car or going someplace else?" She's still speaking, as she works to close our distance, my own back bumping against the cool metal of the door as she moves, her body getting closer than I care to acknowledge. Her hands reach out, lacing fingers through belt loops, tugging until our lower halves are almost completely touching. Her eyes meet mine under the shadow of her dark lashes. I was prepared to answer, but I'm caught off guard by her forwardness, and my thoughts scramble to catch up, the words having trouble finding their release. They stutter upon delivery.

"W…well…" Taking a deep breath, I try not to get too distracted by her perfume as it begins invades with the gust of fresh water air. It takes all of my willpower to push her hands away from my abdomen. The action making it extremely easy to detect her annoyance over my reluctance. She is terrible at hiding her reaction to the refusal.

"Well what do you want? Do you want to do this?" She takes an affronted step back after I remove her hands. Crossing her one arm over the other, impatience at indecision, she's pissed and she challenges me with her attitude.

"Because I can just go find someone else" She's uninterested. Bored with the idea of waiting around; in the end, I'm just another mark giving her disappointing results. And oddly enough it's this unexpected causality she's placing on having sex with me that's starting to piss me off. I use my building agitation as an advantage in finding my confidence.

"Ya know what? I really don't"

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm most definitely not. Ma'am are you aware that you just tried to solicit a police officer?"

"You're a cop?" She stands there, unmoving and challenging, clearly not believing my revelation.

"Yes" There's no trace of uncertainty in my voice now, the severity grasped when I gesture to the badge on my waistline, it resting further over than her fingers ever dared to explore. Upon recognition, I witness the shift in her emotions. They flicker over her features in rapidity, disbelief and distress the common theme. Her once envious self-assurance receding into fearfulness.

"And are you aware that what you are doing here tonight is illegal?"

"Yes, I am but..." She chokes on her words, voice breaking under the tension, my own speech unfaltering in its momentum.

"Unfortunately, I am going to have to place your person under arrest. Do you understand?"

"I do but if you…"

"And bring you into the station?"

"But…"

"Ma'am, do you understand?"

"Yes, I do" It's a single phrase she utters in defeat. Her reality overwhelming with the unintended consequences, she continues to study me during this moment of unrequited triumph, and I can see the congregation of tears formulating. The crystal clouded with uncertainty of what's to come. She's a stark contrast to the woman who stood before me a moment ago, a fighter that didn't make it to the final round. The bell has rung but she refuses to let them fall.

"Look, I'm just trying to do my job. As you were here tonight. I don't want to make this difficult for either of us. Come back with me and we'll try and sort this entire mess out together?" I leave the question open ended, like I'm offering her some reprieve. But I'm not asking for her permission. She offers no vocal recognition just her actions that reverberate her understanding. A further admittance to her loss as she holds out both of her hands before me; refusing to meet my gaze.

"Oh no. No. I'm not gunna…" I trail off, leaving the sentence incomplete. I had never planned on handcuffing this woman, but the assumption that I was going to is unsettling. So, without much further contemplation on the subject I allow my actions to speak louder than my unfinished words, substituting one gesture in place of another, I open the back door instead. And stupidly, as I wait for her response, I hope that somehow the promise of not restraining her will offer relief. But I've misjudged the act of chivalry.

"Oh, is it because I'm a woman?" I'm in disbelief. I wanted her to feel safe not put out. I'm beginning to understand how impossible it is for me to try and keep up with her changing disposition. Just another outlet where I'm unequipped in this fight of her self-determination.

"Why would you assume…"

"Never mind just move" She pushes around me, shoving my arm as she does. The action much angrier than she intended but I don't waste time in calling her out.  
"I could also charge you will assaulting an officer" Hand on the open door, her eyes meet mine, there's fire burning behind them. Challenging once again. She knows my threat holds no real merit. And she says as much.

"That's what I thought" I don't bother to fight her because she's right to call my bluff. Because even though I'm here just trying to do my job, so is she, I don't forget that. But I'm threatened by her self-assurance and I'm doing a bang up job at covering it up by being an asshole. I don't want to be this person. I hate being this person. And I desperately wish right now she was a thug that I could beat the shit out of and move on, but she's not. Because the circumstances always have a cruel way of working against us in the end.

Attempting to ignore me further she makes the effort to get herself into my SUV. But she stumbles a bit as she begins to change position. The height of the vehicle higher than she anticipated. She can't find the right footing in her heels to pull herself up.

"Here I'll help you…"

"No that's ok. I've got it thank you" The pleasantry is there, right underneath the words, but her anger is doing an excellent job at smothering their delivery. Trying, she fails once again at an attempt to hoist herself up; her anger continuing to fuel her determination. But I can't watch this pitiful display any longer. So, regardless of her previous refusal, I reach out to offer my hand in support. The movement quick, and unexpected, and she flinches at the suddenness; like a victim shielding themselves against the incoming abuse. I pull back instantly, sensing her apprehension. My hand still lingering with the promise of assistance.

"Hey it's alright" My voice soft as it attempts to reduce the unease. Her reaction providing me with some clarity over our encounter. It's become increasingly easy to see how my presence has been a threat to her from the beginning, especially with the way I have been objectifying her. I realize how my actions have affected her. And the guilt is overwhelming. But surprisingly enough, there's only a moment of contemplation on her part. One where I watch her search my face for something I don't quite comprehend, before she willingly takes my outstretched hand.

X

Although the town of Aldcrest Harbor is considered a quaint one, the actual drive through it has always been complicated. Its unmarked city streets make passage a nightmare, and even though I'm experienced with the complex patterns, I opt to take the backroads instead. I don't intend to inhibit our progress and I refuse to prolong any of the difficulty I've already caused this woman. The sooner it's over, the better it is for the both of us.

So, we drive together in silence. The stillness unnerving with her sitting behind me. And the quiet makes me uneasy, so I can't help but glance in the rear-view mirror to watch her. When I do, I notice that her body is shaking. And I presume the involuntary movement is due to the temperature of the interior, she is only wearing a dress after all; I work to resolve the problem.

"Are you warm enough?"

"As much as I can be" Chancing another look while I continue to drive, I realize I've completely misread the situation. I can see the shift in her now. Hear the broken vocality in the syllables. Detect how it takes everything in her to answer my simple question. I watch as her hands wring together, the motions looking painful as she attempts to self-regulate in comfort. My guilt returns instantaneously. And I know it won't make anything easier on her but I don't know what else to do. I turn the heat up anyway.

I aim to leave her be for the rest of our drive but I can't and I don't because it's only a little while after she finishes speaking when I first hear it. A quiet wheezing of air. And stupidly I'm under the assumption it's a problem with the car's vents. Even waiving my hand in front of the outlet to assess the warmth, but as the noise gets progressively louder, and I hear it mix with sounds that are undoubtedly human, I know it's coming from her.

"Hey you alright back there?" I say it jokingly, looking back at her once again as I do. Seeing her though immediately expels any remaining mirth from my body. Because I'm fully aware of what's happening to her. Her eyes are frantic and wild, the tears streaming down her face. She panicked for breath and suffocating in my back seat.

"Shit"

I pull off the road immediately at the sight of her, not even bothering to look for other cars before I do. The wheels squealing as they meet the crunch of gravel; protesting vocally their hasty change in position. Fully stopped, I waste no time in reaching her. Rounding to her door, and pulling it open immediately, I plead for her permission.

"Ma'am, I am going to help you. Just nod if you can hear me" The movement is slight, but I take it as consent to move closer to her. Taking her hand, the limb shaking violently as I do, it's easy to feel the rapidity of her pulse underneath the heated skin.

"It's going to be alright" I move fully into the vehicle, getting into a more direct line of her vision. Because I need her to focus on me and not the sensations she's experiencing. I'm afraid her panic attack is escalating towards something I won't be able to control on my own. So, I act as fast as I'm able.

"You are in a safe place right now. Please breathe with me" I can tell she's trying to acquiesce my commands. Some semblance of her fighting from somewhere underneath the consuming distress. She's still fighting for air. I placate her struggle as progress.

"That's right in and out. You got this." I hold both of her hands tight in my own now, fingers attempting to rub comforting circles on the undersides of her wrists as I do. "Keep going. You're doing fine. Focus on the sound of my voice. I'm right here and it's going to be ok" I breathe deep with her. Mirroring the repetition as she complies. Her breathing becoming less strained. I talk to fill the void.

"When I was 13 I found a stray dog." Her eyes meet mine with recognition for the first time. And I continue to ramble as she focuses more on me, keeping the momentum in motion.

"God, he was horrible. All mangled and dirty. I knew there was no way in hell I'd be allowed to keep him. Didn't really give a shit though because he was the best thing I'd ever found" I pause briefly in my ranting, stopping to breathe along with her once again before I continue.

"I secretly cared for him behind my father's back until he got better. Did all these extra chores around town to help pay for him. Everyone just thought I was being helpful. Little did they know, right? Even built him his own house on the outskirts of the woods" She's completely engaged now, listening to my voice. Actively paying attention while the words begin to register their coherence. It was a memory meant only as a distraction, one to help pull her back to reality, but with the way she's watching me now I suddenly feel foolish for telling it to her at all. So, I stop talking.

Noticing her responsiveness, I watch to gauge the current level of alarm. She's returned to some semblance of composure, breathing still difficult but the rhythm regular, hear tears have diminished in their frequency. I continue to observe as the lingering ones travel their uncertain paths.  
"He was my secret dog" My voice is quiet as I finish. And I know I'm overstepping my boundaries right now, but I don't care. I find the courage to wipe away the lingering moisture from her skin. "There you are"

"What happened?" Her voice breaks slightly, fighting against the labored compression's of her lungs. She sucks in another deep breath before she speaks. "With the dog, I mean?"

"Eh he's not important right now. What is, is what happened with you?"

"I'm not…this isn't…"

"Hey, hey" I'm determined to stop any reemergence of her escalating emotions "Nice and slow. Neither of us have anywhere to be. Everything's alright"

"It's just…I'm not what you think"

"It's really none of my business…"

"I know. But I feel like I owe you an explanation"

"You don't owe me anything"

"I know" She sucks in a couple of deep breaths before talking again.

"I don't do this because I want to. My husband…well…he's not a nice man. Barely made a living when he was sober. Too drunk and too violent far too often to ever do anything worthwhile. I did this to get by, sleeping with other people I mean. He didn't know, but I figured he wouldn't really care what I did as long as he had the funds to support his drinking"

"Ignorance is bliss?"

"Ha, yeah if you could even call it that" She lets out a little cough, "I guess I had thought…it was a dumb dream really…but I thought that maybe if I did this long enough, I'd find someone to take me away from it all. But instead…instead… I just became numb; to everything"

"I'm sor…" She holds up a hand to stop me.

"Don't be sorry. I made the choice, right? It was stupid. I was stupid" Suddenly shy, she averts her gaze away from me, "This wasn't the first time he's done it" Looking back in my direction, she lifts her hand to pull back on the collar of her dress, affording me the perfect glimpse of her skin. I hadn't noticed before. The way the bruises mar the skin, encompassing the area around her throat, and wrapping up by her shoulder blade. "It's definitely not the worst he's done, not the worst a client has done…I've just…had enough of it"

My fingers clench immediately at her reveal, a rote response to the unnecessary violence she's endured, but it's then I realize I've still got her one hand captured beneath my own. The reminder of our contact doesn't shock her, instead offers support and she continues without any further expression.

"So, I left him. Probably wouldn't even realize I wasn't around anymore if it weren't for the car. I didn't really plan on taking it. I just knew I needed to get out of there. I don't have any money, or place to go, and I just drove until it ran out of gas. And then...there was a girl who said I could do what I used to do, down here. And I didn't want to. Really, I didn't because I wanted to start fresh. But nothing else was coming up. It's really pathetic but all I wanted was to eat tonight" She shrugs in response to the admission.

"And then your car was sitting there, so I just assumed you were waiting for some action. I mean really why would else would anyone be out there, right?" She briefly pinches the bridge of her nose before returning to the one-sided conversation, "And then you arrested me, and I knew if you ran my name, you'd know about me taking the car and he'd come find me. And I guess…I couldn't stop it. Stupid, right?"

"You're not stupid" Her self-deprecation makes me angry and sad for her all at once. And the nod she gives in response is anything but reassuring. I need her to understand that she's better than her circumstances. "You did the right thing. Leaving him. Don't be ashamed for what you had to do to get by. Be proud that you left, even if you did end up in this shit town"

There's genuine surprise after I finish talking. Her face falling in disbelief of my encouragement and acknowledgement of her past and present. I find her eyes searching my own, looking for any hint that I'm faking my support, gauging the level of sincerity. I hope she senses the seriousness I'm trying to express. And after some scrutiny, I find that her eyes are somehow softer, and she's looking at me in a way that was completely different than before. I can't really discern the change but it's there just the same.

"I guess we should get going then?"

And instead of agreeing with her I blurt out my next statement without much consideration, "Why don't I take you to get something to eat?"

"Oh god no. No." She waves me off. The suggestion going beyond any politeness she's accustomed to.

"You said you hadn't eaten. You can't not eat"

"I couldn't ask something like that of you"

"Well you're not asking. I'm offering" She falters, floundering to find words that will help her refuse the kindness, I don't give her the chance to object my proposal. "I'm not going to take no for an answer"

"Ok then"

I give her a slight smile, trying to reassure her that it was ok to accept my offer, before I start to remove myself from my position in front of her, finally letting go of her hand as I do. I could almost swear her face falls at the loss of our contact, but looking back I can't be sure. Regardless I open the door and back out fully into the dark. And standing there now, on the side of the road, waiting with the door open, I assume my meaning is clear. Instead there's confusion.

"What?"

"Come on"

"What?"

"Come on, come up front" She still looks unsure as she slides herself off the leather. And now with her standing before me, I'm the one who takes the lead.

"Look" I try to exude my seriousness and severity with one word. Wanting her to pay attention. She complies easily, her eyes boring into mine. "I don't do this. Ever. And I mean that. But…you're not a criminal and I have no intention of arresting you"

She launches herself at me then, hugging without warning, and I stumble a bit at the suddenness. Her contact is frantic but not entirely unwelcome and I find myself leaning farther into unexpected her touch. It's nice. Feeling the way her face nuzzles deep into the juncture of my neck; arms clinging around my upper back. I make the attempt to reciprocate. Clumsy hands reaching up, testing the level of our interaction, before they begin to put tentative pressure on her lower half. And just when I allow my eyes to shut, beginning to find comfort, and revel in the feel of this stranger's body pressed against my own does the illusion break; she begins to pull back. We both let go, starting at one another nervously as we part, because despite the separation we remain dangerously close. She steps back further, realizing now how she reacted.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I just…"

"It's ok"

X

Driving towards White Pine Bay, our atmosphere is considerably less strained than it was before. And unlike the previous tension, and frenzied altercation, I find that I don't mind the prolonged silence we're experiencing now. Because as contrasting as the earlier environment was, this one is tranquil, and comfortable, and admittedly, with the both of us up front, it foolishly feels like we've been doing this forever. And I find myself enjoying it.

It's only after quite some time, that she shifts from looking out the window to glance over in my direction. Our eyes meeting briefly as she does. My own returning to the road immediately after they do. I can feel hers linger.

"It's Norma by the way"

"Norma?" The name suits her.

"Yeah. Norma Bates"

"Well Norma Bates, I'm Alex. Alex Romero" Looking over, after our brief introduction, she's not looking in my direction but I don't miss the smile that grazes her face.


End file.
